


a rose by any other name

by jadeddiva



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/pseuds/jadeddiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery has been taught, from an early age, that family supersedes all else.  She must act now and ask for forgiveness later.  AU - what if the Tyrells went to the Starks instead of the Lannisters after Renly’s death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a rose by any other name

_Catelyn Stark is right_ , Margaery thinks.  The men in Renly’s army – both his own host and that provided by the Tyrells on the occasion of Margaery’s marriage – are just boys, playing at war when Robb Stark is actually fighting one.

That is why Renly’s host splits so suddenly at their lord’s death – not because of the threat of treason against the crown that hangs over their heads now that their sworn sovereign is dead, but because they lack the discipline and patience of an actual army.  They run crying to their mothers with skinned knees, leaving all thoughts of glory in their wake.

Loras would be one of them if Margaery doesn’t step in, carding her fingers through his hair and murmuring sweet words of comfort (she knows now that she is not really a queen, for no one has spared a word of comfort for her on the loss of her husband).  In the chaos of Renly’s death, Margaery makes a choice.

She still wants to be a queen but she also wants to live.  She has been taught, from an early age, that family supersedes all else, and suddenly it is quite clear to her how she can make sure that her family survives.

She must act now and ask for forgiveness later.

There is talk in the camp of how this is Catelyn Stark’s doing, her and the Lady Brienne, and Margaery seizes the opportunity to be queen one last time.

“Lady Stark only has our best interests at heart,” she says passionately, forcing tears to her eyes.  “The North would never harm us.  No, it is the Lannisters who have done this – that mad woman and her vile wretch of a son, born of unnatural coupling.  The Lannisters have killed our king.”

Her words ring out, stopping the fleeing men in their tracks.  They all come close, gathering around her.

Margaery raises her teary eyes, glancing at the Renly’s last loyal commanders. “The Lannisters killed our king.  The Lannisters must pay.”

…

“A gamble, but well-played,” Willas offers when Margaery and Loras arrive in Highgarden.  They bring with them the majority of Renly’s host, now full of lusty thoughts of revenge against the Lannisters.  Margaery has always been aware of what a few well-said words can do, but this is something very different.   She knows she has started something that could very well end them, but it seemed the best move at the time, and she’s always been taught to read the board and manipulate the players.

She only hopes that no one seizes her piece before her next move.

“And what could have possibly inspired you to prick the lions of the rock, little rose?” Grandmother asks.  She is seated at table with Margaery’s father, mother, eldest brothers, and Margaery herself (Loras is mourning somewhere else) and she can feel the scrutiny as the greatest minds of House Tyrell try to decide their next move now that Margaery has rearranged the board.

“I do not think Catelyn Stark killed Renly,” Margaery says, “and I think that it might be advantageous for us to ally ourselves with the Starks, in light of all the talk of dragons in the east.”

“Dragons are long dead,” Father tells them, but Willas smirks knowingly. 

“News from Oldtown and the Citadel says otherwise,” he informs them.  “How will allying with House Stark help us when the dragons come?”

“Robb Stark is Ned Stark’s son,” Margaery points out.  “His father only rose in rebellion once his sister was taken and his own kin slain by the mad king.  Ned Stark was a man of honor –“

“- and it lost him his head-“ Garlan japes.

“ -and his son has raised his banners in rebellion over Joffrey Baratheon.  If the dragons return – if the Targaryen’s return, they are our liege lords.  We only bent the knee when forced,” Margaery concludes.  “The Starks want justice for their father.  The Young Wolf does not want a throne.”

“And what are you proposing, little rose?” Grandmother asks.   Margaery smiles.

“An alliance with the Starks through marriage,” she says.  “I have been wedded but not bedded.  We can bring a sizeable army to help them.”

“We have no quarrel with the Lannisters,” Father points out, but Grandmother shakes her head.

“No, but it would be advantageous to us to gain some of their land in the west,” she says.  “And if we usurped Tywin Lannister in terms of monetary value to our liege-lords, when the Targaryen’s return –“

“ _If_ they return,” Garlan add but Grandmother shakes her head.

“This is a risk, little rose,” she tells Margaery. “The Lannisters always pay their debts.”

“It seems to me like they owe House Stark a rather large one,” Margaery says.   

“We have no need of an alliance with the North once this war is over,” Willas points out.  “You would be far from Highgarden, dear sister, far from many comforts that you have grown used to.”

Margaery has not thought of that, but she does not let her indecision show in her face.  “House Stark is the only house in all of Westeros that is worthy of a marriage to a Tyrell of Highgarden,” she tells her brother.  “I will grow strong, even in the North.”

Grandmother smiles.   “Let us sleep on this, and send an envoy in the morning.  It seems we may very well have another wedding in our future.”

…

In the morning, it appears that everyone agrees this is their best course of action.  An alliance with the Lannisters is out of the question now that Margaery has spoken against them, and so several Tyrell cousins are sent under a banner of white and gold and green to treat with the northern host.

Margaery keeps busy, staying at Loras’s side and trying not to worry that her gamble may not pay off.  However, once the envoy is sent, the reply is received quickly: the Starks are interested in this arrangement. 

And so, the Tyrell host moves north, to the Riverlands. 

As they ride, Margaery watches the terrain change.  They leave the warmth of the Reach and soon the land is grassier, with more forests and trees and just a bit colder too.

If it is cold here, she worries what the North might be like.

For the first time since she hatched this plan in Renly’s camp, she takes a moment to consider what she is truly doing.  It is a gamble, for the Lannisters are as volatile as the lions on their sigils, but no forward move in any game can occur without risk. 

This is her risk – becoming the wife of a man that she does not know who is waging war against the crown.  She has done a similar thing one before, and it did not end well, but being the wife of Robb Stark must be very different from being the wife of Renly Baratheon.

She has never met the heir to Winterfell, has never heard anything ill spoken of the Young Wolf, and she does not think that a son of Ned Stark would treat his wife unfairly, so she knows she has little to fear.   She just hopes, for all that she is giving up to move her family forward in this game, that he is comely and kind.

She is not disappointed.

When they reach the camp, and introductions are made, her eyes fall on him immediately and move away from him only to make pleasantries with his mother and the others who are in attendance.  They always drift back to him.

He is handsome, as tall as Loras and with red hair that is so different from the south.  He is well-built, with kind eyes that look upon her in such a way that she knows he will treat her fairly and well even if there is no love between them ~~yet~~.

“Well met, Lady Margaery,” Robb Stark says upon their introduction, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth.  “The reports of your beauty do you no justice.  You are far more fair than I had anticipated.”

He brushes a kiss against her knuckles and she feels like a young girl again, heart pounding in her chest at the thought of a boy kissing her, but she cannot help but wonder what sort of lover this new husband of hers might be, if he is so kind to her at their first meeting.

Lady Catelyn Stark stands beside her son with a small smile on her face.  She must know, now that the Tyrells are here with their army, how great a force they can bring against the Lannisters now.

Margaery thinks she will like having this kind, wise woman as her new good-mother.

Before she can marry, however, there are matters to discuss – namely, his promise to Walder Frey’s daughter, and other arrangements that need to be taken care of.

“Leave that to me, Lady Stark,” Grandmother says.  “I do so love a good negotiation.”

Grandmother sets out for the Twins the next morning with several of Margaery’s cousins and a large trunk of cold.  She returns with marriage promises for her kin and no trunk.

“The temptation of the Reach is too great for men such as Walder Frey,” Grandmother tells her.  “You will be married within a fortnight, little rose, and when you do marry, remember to make sure that your husband bends the knee when our liege-lords return.”

Margaery nods.  She understands her role very well, for she has created it for herself.

…

In the days that pass, the armies engage in drills and some skirmishes with the Lannisters forces but there are no outright battles and so Margaery is courted, sweetly, by her future husband.   They go on long walks (though never alone) and she breaks her fast with him several mornings after she arrives.

One morning, she enters his tent to find him staring at a map of the Riverlands. 

“Heavy is the head who wears the crown,” Margaery says quietly, and Robb looks up, surprised.

“I did not hear you, my lady Margaery,” he says, turning towards her.  He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, like he always does when he meets her, and she can’t help but blush at the feel of his fingers against her own and the rasp of his stubble against her skin.

She has guarded her virtue like the prize that it is, but she has had her share of dalliances with stable hands and kitchen boys, dalliances she has used to teach her how to kiss a man, but it is different, now, with the man she will marry.   Things are different when Robb greets her, for she is now curious about the way that his stubble may rasp against other parts of her body beyond her hands, and how it might feel if he kissed her (but they are always so well guarded that she thinks he will never actually happen before the wedding).

He always looks at her like she is a thing of beauty but unlike the boys she grew up with, the sons of knights and minor lords who always looked at her like she was something they deserved, Robb Stark looks at her like she is a surprise, a gift that he never thought he might get (and which he very much wants to unwarp, if the way that his gaze shifts from her face to her bosom give her any indication of his feelings).

“I am not offended, your grace,” Margaery says. “As I am to be your wife,  I find that it is an educational experience to find you so enraptured with these maps.”

“Enraptured might not be the best word,” Robb says, gesturing for Margaery to sit. 

“Diligent, then,” Margaery adds with a small smile.  This gets Robb flustered, for he blushes and Margaery finds it endearing, how easy it is to break his composure.  They are the same age, but worlds apart at the same time, and she quite likes all the new things that she learns about him as they spend time together.

“The Lannisters are on the run,” he says, pointing to a large lion that represents a portion of Tywin Lannisters’ forces.  “The question becomes how long do we let them run, and when do we stop them?”

“Which would you prefer to do, your grace?” Margaery asks.  “Let them run and they may trap themselves.”  She points to the Mander, which acts as a boundary for their current scrabble.  “Perhaps not as treacherous in the rainy season, but where I am from, a river is as good as a wall when it is flooded.”

“Or frozen,” Robb adds.  “And it has been growing cold of late.” He smiles at Margaery.  “You have an eye for details, Lady Margaery.”

She knows that his words make her blush, so when she speaks again the words have a flirtatious edge that is not planned.   “I only wish to serve my king, you grace,” she tells him.

“Robb,” he says softly, stepping closer to her.  “I would like it very much if you called me Robb.”

He kisses her that day and it is every bit as delicious as she would have hoped. 


End file.
